Secrets
by bandgeek1314
Summary: When Lavonne Coy is reaped for the 68th Hunger Games, she thinks its the end of the world - and, for most, it is.  But when she discovers a secret about her mentor, Johanna Mason, she begins to wonder if she wants to come out alive.
1. Chapter 1

I swing the axe down onto the log I'm splitting, pretending it's Buzz's face. He's with Mahogany now, and they're probably being all lovey dovey and stuff. Gross.

I grab the split sides of the log and toss them into my growing pile. Eight logs down, about a thousand to go. I hate having to work right after school. I'm almost completely covered in sawdust by the time I finally get home, and I have so little time to do homework, I get almost no sleep. Not that the Peacekeepers care. They just want to make sure that we all get six hour shifts every day, so that we produce enough lumber to satisfy the Capitol's ridiculous furniture needs. The Capitol. A sigh of disgust escapes me. Those lazy, over-indulging pigs just sit around, remodeling their homes every two weeks and waiting for their ultimate entertainment, the Hunger Games, to come around again. They'll never know the pain we feel for those in the Games, never understand our hatred for being forced to watch our friends die...

Finally, my shift is done. It's almost dark now, and as I place my axe back in the storage shed, it hits me. Tomorrow is the last day of school. That means that, in four days, one boy and one girl will be reaped. Sent to the Capitol to spend a week in luxury. And thrown into an arena to fight. I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment as I start the walk back to our tiny house, trying to block out the memories of last year's reaping, when one of my classmates, Natalie Willow, was taken. We sat next to each other in second grade. She was killed on the third day, and almost the entire district came to her funeral. She was one of those people who everyone liked, and whose death was mourned the most.

oOo

Reaping day dawns bright and hot. I open my eyes to my mother telling me it's time to wake up as she stirs whatever's for breakfast. I see a dress sitting on the end of my bed, a bunch of white lace. "Do I have to wear this?" I complain. I'm not really the girly-girl type, and this dress looks like it's fit for a wedding. I don't even have a boyfriend...

"Yes, you do have to wear it," she chides. "I want you to look nice."

"That only needs to happen if I end up going to the Capitol and then it won't matter because I'll be dead within ten days!" I yell. Her reaction is immediate. She turns away to whatever she's cooking, pretending my harsh words didn't hurt her as much as they did. I apologize immediately. "I didn't mean to yell at you, I'm just a little bit nervous," I sigh. She walks over to me, gives me a hug, and reassures me that I won't get picked. It's probably true, there are thousands of kids in District 7 and my name will only be in the reaping ball only three times. I still feel bad, though. My dad works long hours at the sawmill every day, and my mother and I hardly see him. Being an only child, I'm very close to my mom. I almost had a sibling, a baby sister, but when my mom was four months pregnant, she got sick one night and my dad had to take her to the healer. I never found out what really happened, but after that, I've always thought of her as more fragile and breakable. Maybe it's just me. To console my mom, I slip into the dress. After adjusting it a little bit, I step in front of our mirror. The bunch of silk is not as bad as I thought. Kind of pretty, actually. I wonder what Sawyer will think of it. He'll probably be wearing something nice, a suit and tie most likely. Sawyer Holt has known me since we were six and he teased me about spelling a word wrong in school. I had responded by promptly shoving him out of his seat and then continuing on with my work. We were pretty much best friends after that. Well, other than Mahogany. I'm pretty sure she should be my biological sister, since we look almost identical. Being from the more wealthy side of town, we have the curly, black hair that marks us as the middle class. We're almost the same height and have emerald green eyes and light skin. When we were younger, our mothers were best friends and so we often ended up playing together. After a few years, we started doing everything together, and since we resembled each other so closely, we often played twins. This was very handy and helped us get out of some sticky situations, like the time that I got in trouble for passing a note in class. Her parents are much more easygoing than mine, so she went to the office and got a detention instead. Hey, that's what friends are for. A couple months ago, however, our relationship started to go downhill with the arrival of Mahogany's new boyfriend, Buzz Ivo. He is honestly the creepiest person I have ever met, but she thinks he's the greatest thing in the world. I started to make excuses of why I couldn't hang out with her, because in reality, Buzz scared the crap out of me. He's just freaky, in that way that makes you always feel uncomfortable. And I didn't want anything to do with him. Mahogany and I are slowly drifting apart, though, and I can't help but blame it all on him.

"Lavonne, time to go!" my mother hurries me out the door. Little did I know what was awaiting me at the Reaping.

**Author's note: This is my first time writing and I hope you like it! Thanks to wintertrain for the help!**


	2. Chapter 2

As usual, we are forced into small pens like cattle that correspond to our age and gender. For example, I find myself standing with a group of other fifteen year old girls. A few nod in recognition, but most stand stiffly, clenching their hands in anticipation. A hand wraps around mine, and I look up in surprise to see Mahogany standing there, sobbing. "Are you okay?" I ask her gently. She sure doesn't look it. A few dark streaks of makeup run down her cheeks and she's obviously been crying for a while. Mahogany whispers under her breath that she and Buzz had a fight, he had promised to protect her in the arena if they were both reaped, but not me. I'm not surprised, but I'm not about to tell my best friend that, even if I've been angry at her. "I'm not sure if we're going to break up, but I think I might want to," she explains. I can see that she's fighting for control over herself, but it must be hard. "Buzz doesn't deserve someone as amazing as you," I reassure her, "but don't go and end it just because of me."

"But you're my twin," Mahogany says, obviously attempting to make a joke. "And you stayed with me even though you don't like Buzz. You know what, I think I am going to break up with him." She starts to push her way through the crowd to the fifteen year old boys, but before she can make it more than a couple feet, a throat clears itself up on the stage. It's the mayor, Boyce Wright, about to make his ridiculously long speech about how much we owe the Capitol, why we have to have the Hunger Games. Mahogany slips back to my side and we wait for what seems forever for the history of Panem to be over. Finally, Mayor Wright is done, and we can proceed with the reaping. As the man who draws the slips, fake and Capitol-perfected, steps up to the huge glass balls of names, the crowd stops talking and whispering, and barely breathes. For some reason, in District 7, we call the male names first. The hand reaches inside and picks out a single slip. No one moves as the name is spoken into the microphone. But it's no one I've ever heard of before. Carver Holt. He must be from the poorer part of town, as his hair is a striking light brown, and he has dark eyes. Wait-I have seen him around school. He's a year ahead of me, so he must be sixteen. Carver steps up onto the stage and stands next to the mayor, but behind his seemingly calm face, I can see the boy tribute shaking like a leaf in the wind. A woman starts sobbing from the other side of the square. Must be his mom. I see the woman being led away by a tall man who must be the dad, as he looks strikingly similar to Carver. The girls are next, and I feel Mahogany squeezing my hand as a similar slip is pulled out of the other glass ball. My heart starts beating furiously in anticipation, and I hold my breath and pray for the slip to have someone else's name, just not mine. The announcer spreads the paper flat, and reads out the name in a flat monotone. The words seem foreign in his mouth, do not belong to him. The two words are called out and I hear them bouncing around in my uncomprehending brain. Not registering to me. Because the girl's name is Lavonne Coy.

oOo

It's hard to recall what happens in the next few minutes, because I was in shock. I didn't understand how I could have been called, but the whispers around me evidently did. I saw several looks directed my way, but thought I was dreaming. No way had I been picked. But Mahogany's face wakes me up. I start moving through the crowd, but it parts the way for me in a direct line to the stage. As I climb up onto the platform, and am instructed to shake hands with Carver, it hits me. I am going to the Hunger Games.

oOo

An hour. That's all I have until the lightning speed train whisks me away and I never see my family and friends again. I sit, legs crossed, breathing deeply to keep from hyperventilating. Or screaming. Or profanity. I wonder if anyone will actually come visit me. Why would they, it would just make it harder to accept my death. I have little hope of returning home. Twenty-three other teenagers stand in my way. I'm still pondering this when the door opens. My mother and father rush in, surround me with hugs, tell me it's okay. I nod, respond, but the words and actions are lies. After a few minutes a Peacekeeper tells them the time is up and they leave with one more goodbye. That's all. More faces start to appear. A sniffling Mahogany informs me that she is no longer dating Buzz, and hands me a small locket of hers to take to the arena. Sawyer makes the most impression. I am staring at the couch in my confinement when he walks in, sits down, and holds me tightly. I don't care what the cameras see, I start crying. I'll never see him again. For what seems like forever but is only a few minutes he holds me. Finally a Peacekeeper returns. For once, the tough military man looks almost regretful to separate us. But he must. Sawyer whispers "I love you," into my ear and I nod in response. I feel the same way. He kisses me lightly on the forehead and finally lets go of my hand. As I watch my best friend walk out the door, hope diminishes of ever seeing him again.


	3. Chapter 3

Another Peacekeeper returns to escort me to the train. Like I'm going to run. They'd just catch me and force me to go anyway. I wonder, if I was killed in the chase, if they'd have to have another reaping. I don't think it's ever happened before, but I make a mental note to ask someone. Who cares if they don't like the question? What can they do about it? I'm going to die anyway. A chill runs through me as I set my eyes upon the sleek Capitol train. Reminds me of a snake. Carver is there also, although he looks stronger than I feel. And Johanna Mason, of course. Johanna, our mentor, looks the same as always; short brown hair, brown eyes, and a fierce expression claiming she'd rather be anywhere else. Her sanity is to be debated, seeing that look. But she's gone through the Games, and managed to survive. She's got to be tough. Johanna glances at me long enough to point in the direction of the door onto the machine taking us to the Capitol. As we are helped up on the train, I slip on the train of my dress- much more annoying now that I remember it. I lose my balance and am falling in midair when I feel hands on my back. Carver's there, supporting me and breaking my fall. "Thanks," I mutter under my breath. Carver just nods, not making eye contact or changing facial expression. What a jerk. He could at least ask me if I was alright. But I'm glad at the same time. If he grows on me, I might have a problem in the arena. As it is now, I could take him out. No problem.

oOo

I focus once again on the interior of the car we're now standing inside. All plush. All velvet. Very classy. Nicer than my house, even though I lived in the nicer part of town. Our mentor-whose name I still don't know-ushers me to my room and Carver to his. I walk in and close the door, and can't help but gasp a little. This is my room? It's perfectly furnished-in deep scarlet and blazing gold. The very picture of wealth and satisfaction. My feet wander around the large compartment until I find the bathroom. I spot a shiny panel filled with more buttons than my shower at home. There's pretty much every option you could have for a shower available. A fragrant aroma reaches my nose, and I turn to find a fresh vase of freesia and orange blossom. I inhale the rich scent and stoop to examine the flowers. If it weren't for the strong smell I would have thought they were fake. They're obviously perfected in some Capitol lab to insure the absolute best flower ever. They're lovely, even though there's no point. The perfection of the flowers-the beauty-frightens me. Why would they go to such lengths to beautify our temporary living space if we're going to die anyway? It must be truly horrible in that arena. Suddenly, I am sickened by the thought. I turn away to go back into my main bedroom and am about to sit on the bed when a shudder rocks the train. My eyes turn toward the window outside as I fall on the cushioned mattress. My suspicions are confirmed when the ground outside trembles once again. I hear screams outside and in other parts of the train, and know that it will be bad. Because what the Capitol doesn't care about, overlooked, never dreamed of messing up their perfect day, is something even the most brilliant scientist could never prevent. Because here in District Seven, we have earthquakes.

oOo

Trying to stay flat, I crouch on the bed for what seems like forever as shudders rip through the train, the ground outside. I hear several large objects thudding as they hit the ground, and glass breaks all around me. The sparkling chandelier that reflected rays of golden light when I first walked in falls with a mighty heave, and lands inches away from my head. Shards of white-hot glass rain down on my, and I feel several cuts open on my face. I want to move, to get away, but I know the safest course of action is to stay here and ride out the most powerful kind of natural disaster. Something heavy breaks, and mere seconds later I feel an impact on my head. As the world fades away someone stumbles into my room, and hollers an unintelligible comment. As everything shakes back and forth, I grab on to my bedspread and black out.

oOo

"Is she all right?" a concerned voice asks. I hear responses and muttering, but the pain in my head overwhelms me and I block out everything, trying not to scream. I know without confirmation that my face is bleeding and I have a large bump on my head. "She'll be okay," I hear a calm voice answer. "She was hurt worse than the boy, but no permanent damage done." So Carver is fine? I'm unable to move here, miserable and disadvantaged, and he's normal? Even though it's not his fault, hate burns in me. Enough to make me open my eyes and struggle to a sitting position.

"Lavonne, lay down," I am told, but I ignore the words of advice until a tall man in a white coat comes over to my seat. "Can you hear me?" He asks. I nod, and he breathes a sigh of relief. "Okay, I need you to listen. A very powerful earthquake came through as we were about to pull out of the train station. There were four casualties, but mostly minor injuries. Your district was very lucky. You have a lot of swelling and your head will be sore for a while, but you're okay. We have medicine that will fix those cuts up right away. Carver was okay. Your bedroom was almost destroyed, but it was the worst damage. It's getting refurnished as we speak. And we're on our way to the Capitol."

**Author's note: I wanted to change things up a little bit; start with some action before the Games. Hope you like!**


	4. Chapter 4

This stuff smells worse than garbage, I think as another cream is plastered onto my face. For the last hour I've been being prepped. This means that I've had about four baths in disgusting liquids, multiple concoctions slathered on my face, and numerous hair creams. I can't help wondering if this part of being in the Capitol is worse than the actual Games. My prep team seems to be totally oblivious to all of my deliberate coughs, winces, and groans. Or they just don't care. Either way, I'm relieved when they order me to take a hot shower to rid myself of the layers of-stuff. I don't even know what it is. About twenty minutes later I step out of the steam and realize I'm alone, with a towel and robe waiting for me. I slip into the robe and wrap my hair up in the towel, then sit and wait for my stylist. A few minutes later, she appears. She looks absolutely terrifying in all of her makeup and ridiculous clothes. But I try to make the best out of it. Maybe I won't look like the stupid trees that are depicted on screen every year.

"You're going to make an impression," the woman declares. "Trees are so overrated. I thought you might like a different spin on your district symbol. So, here's what you're wearing." She disappears for a moment and then comes back with a garment bag and box. "First, your dress." A flourish of the woman's hand and a piece of shimmery cloth appears. It's...green. But not gross green. It's all different shades, and changes even more when it hits the light. Despite how much I hate Capitol clothing, it's a breathtaking dress. The woman helps me into it and I close my eyes, letting the dress settle. I can feel that it goes about down to my knees. I open my eyes and gasp. The strapless gown looks amazing. My hair is perfectly straight, unlike my usual curls. A pair of golden brown shoes and matching jewelry later, I'm ready. I'm so ready to do this and face the crowd.

oOo

Training is scary, but I learn some useful things about survival skills. I find out that I am excellent at throwing knives, swords, axes-pretty much everything, coming from my lumberjack experience. Carver's good too, but I try to ignore him so I don't have the impulse to throw something at _him_. The dummies present no challenge, however, and I end up targeting the archery bulls eyes, narrowly missing a couple tributes. They always give me looks, like are you trying to kill me?

Well, no comment.

On the morning of the second day, Carver and I walk down to Training together. Neither of us wants to run into any other tributes, so we end up just taking the stairs. It's a good thing we're going downhill, or else we wouldn't be able to move when we finally got down to the huge gymnasium. On our way, however, Carver attempts to start a conversation. We chat a little about the weather, our impending doom, but mostly it's just awkward, until we get onto the subject of Johanna Mason.

"You know, the Capitol didn't actually kill her family after she won the Games," Carver ventures.

I look up at him surprise. Everybody in the district knows that that's what happened. The Capitol wanted to set an example of why you shouldn't rebel in the arena. "Of course they did," I talk to him as if he is stupid, which he very well might be.

"I heard Johanna and another victor, I think it was Finnick, talking about it," Carver says. "You know Finnick-the mentor from District Four? He mentioned something in their conversation about how Johanna might have gone a little too far, but at least her family was safe from the Capitol."

"What could Johanna have done? She had just won the Games and then..." I trail off, not wanting to discuss in detail the murders of Johanna's father, sister, and brother.

"Well, I know what I heard," Carver finishes just as we reach the gym. We drift apart during the next seven hours of training, but I can't help wonder, if the Capitol didn't kill Johanna's family, what did?

oOo

After training, we head back upstairs-this time, using the elevator- and a massive dinner awaits us. Our stylists and mentors are here, and I can't help but notice that Johanna looks a little bit down in the dumps, like she was scolded for being naughty. I think back to what Carver told me about her conversation, and wonder if it has to do with her attitude. I forget about her, though, when an Avox places our first dish on the table-soft garlic bread. I hungrily wait until the basket has been passed around, then grab a slice for myself and start to gobble it down. My stylist warns me not to eat too much, as more food is coming, but it's hard and I feel so hungry. The next course is placed in front of us and I am glad I didn't scarf down the bread. Roast beef covered in a thick, creamy sauce is next, followed by a Caesar salad, assorted fruit and cheese, and a rich chocolate pie. Thank goodness I'm more used to this food, or I would be about to throw up. Instead, I sit back, contented, a sip my glass of water. They offered me wine, but that's just gross to a fifteen year old.

After dinner, we all head upstairs to our respective rooms. Carver looks like he wants to say something to me, but I ignore him. I need to think on my own about what he said and whether or not I believe it. If the Capitol didn't kill Johanna's family, something else had to happen, because they were all gone. I mean, people can't just vanish into thin air, can they?

**Sorry I haven't posted in a while, I've been super busy! By the way, you should go read Cannons and Strange Things by wintertrain, they're both really good.**


	5. Chapter 5

If looks could kill.

The male tribute from district 8 would have been gone a long time ago. He keeps following me around, which is insanely annoying. Every single station I go to-including the edible plants station, where I attempted to make him eat the poisonous fruit-he appears behind me and starts making a mediocre attempt on whatever the station teaches. I glare at him repeatedly, but the dumb guy obviously doesn't notice. How obnoxious.

Carver and I have mostly avoided each other. I don't want to talk to him, don't want to hear his ideas about what happened to Johanna's family. I've heard enough to know that Carver must be out of his mind.

I'm practicing shooting arrows when they come up. The boy and girl from Twelve, Kohl and Brenton, both with jet-black hair and gray eyes. They introduce themselves, and I smile and nod, debating having them as allies. But when Kohl picks up a spear and hurls it toward the bullseye, hitting it dead center, I make up my mind.

"Do you want to be allies?" I burst out. They two of them look at each other for a moment, then nod.

"We didn't think anyone would ask," Brenton admits. "Nobody usually cares about District Twelve."

"Well, I do," I tell them firmly. "It's not like I'm going to go cozy up with the Careers."

The two of them both nod, and I can tell that, like me, they're remembering last year's Games. The Careers had teamed up with several unlikely allies, including a girl from Three, and had promised to help protect them in the arena. A few days in, however, the Careers had set a trap and killed all three tributes. No one dares question them, though. They're too powerful.

"I would be your ally!" the boy from Eight appears from nowhere. It can be the four of us, and maybe someone who wasn't a career would win this year!" He seems so excited about the prospect of teaming up with the three of us, I have to let him. I can always take him out later, while he's unsuspecting.

"Fine," I grudgingly tell him. "But you have to do what I say in the arena, and you have to stop following me around, or the deal's off. And I need to know your name."

"Brody," he tells me. "I'm so glad you want to be allies. I thought no one would want to partner up with me, you know, since no one really cares about District Eight, and my partner is hanging out with the Careers, and the District Twelve people looked cool and now I can hang out with them and-"

"Brody. Shut. Up!" I exclaim. Geez, people can be annoying. "If you want to partner up, you can't be this loud and obnoxious in the arena, or people will hear you and we'll all die. Got it?"

Brody nods quickly. He looks a little bit like an abandoned puppy dog, with big sad eyes after being put out in the room. Being nice usually isn't my thing, so I try to cut him some slack.

"All right, if it's going to be the four of us, we need to have a wide range of skills. Kohl seems pretty good at throwing spears, so she'll stick to that, and learn how to tie some knots. Brenton, what are you good at?" I ask.

"Archery," he tells me. "I'm okay at archery."

"You're a little bit better than 'okay,'" Kohl rolls her eyes. "He's really good. He can hit just about anything with an arrow."

"Okay, so Brenton can do archery and climbing. Brody, I saw you wrestling earlier, you're pretty good. Stick to that, and camouflage. I'll check out the edible plants station, and throwing knives and axes. That way our group can have most of the strengths. Everybody got it?" I look around for confirmation, and they all nod their heads. "Let's get to it, then."

oOo

The person in charge of the axe and knife station loves me. I guess it's because I've been playing with those kinds of toys since I was a little girl. The weapons are durable and feel good in my hands, and for a while I just focus on hitting the targets from varying distances and angles. I lose myself in the swinging motion, blade after blade hitting the center of the bullseye. I'm very detached from what's going on in the gym, so I didn't notice the swooshing sound of the knife until it was too late.

oOo

The knife whips past my arm and strikes it, leaving a long gash that starts bleeding immediately. I resist the urge to curse, because it hurts like nothing I've ever felt. The trainer at the station runs over, yelling for help from one of the many paramedics standing around just in case. I hear his voice and struggle to stay alert as I sink to my knees. One of the people in their starched white outfit is suddenly at my side, wrapping my upper arm in some kind of bandage. Brody and Kohl hurry over, their eyes wide with shock. I have no idea where the knife came from, but I don't think anything like this has ever happened before in training. I probably made history.

I feel something injected in my arm, and the pain starts to ease away. I can stand up now, straighten up, and survey the gym. There is dead silence. Some faces show anger, some look panicked, others look downright confused. I glance down at my arm and see the bandage being removed. Surprised, I see that it has stopped bleeding and that stitches are being put in. I can't move my arm, though, because it's still very painful. I glance around, wondering again where the blade came from. My eyes land on one face. The girl from District 2, Bridget, I think her name is, is smirking at me, looking distinctly satisfied. She's also standing at the exact angle that the knife came from.

It seems the Games have already begun.

**Sorry I haven't written in so long! Chapter 6 should be up soon, as well.**


	6. Chapter 6

I finally learn our mentor's name when she's fussing over my injury.

"And you're sure that the girl from Two threw the knife?" Nidea asks.

"No," I say honestly. "I mean, there's a really good chance, since she wasn't apologetic and was at the perfect angle, but...maybe it was her District partner." But the more I think about it, the more I'm convinced it was Bridget. She is, after all, a Career, and they stop at nothing.

I rest back on my pillows, as I'm being confined to bedrest for the evening. I tried to protest, since my arm was all stitched up and deemed fine by the doctors. But in reality, I can't move it without wincing. I wonder what will happen to Bridget. There were plenty of witnesses in the arena, and one or two Gamemakers might have seen what happened. Surely their word would be enough to convict anyone...

An Avox girl comes into my room with my supper and sets it on the table beside me. The food smells wonderful, of course; steaming soup and fresh bread and salad, with a plate of chocolate pastries. But something about the girl strikes me as odd. Usually, Avoxes appear to be in their twenties or thirties, but this one seems to be about my age.

"How old are you?" I speak before thinking about the consequences. The fear in her face shows immediately-she shakes her head and hurries back to the door. Before she can exit, however, I get up out of bed and stand next to the girl. "Please?" I ask. "Will you just tell me?"

She looks around, and holds up ten fingers, then another six. She's sixteen, one year older than me, and yet the girl obviously has had a much harder life. I start to feel bad about talking to her. I don't want her to be punished. I step back and let her leave before climbing back into bed and eating dinner, thinking all the while about the Avox girl.

oOo

By the time the knife was thrown, training had already been almost over, so I didn't really miss anything. Brody and Kohl had tried to talk to me, but Nidea had rushed me out of the gymnasium. Most of the other tributes seemed as lost as I first was when they were leading me out. After all, these things don't happen by accident. I'm absolutely positive that Bridget tried to injure me now. Payback time will come in the arena. That blondie better watch her back. I'm hoping to be able to attend training tomorrow, so that I can be up to my game, so I bury my face into my pillows and sleep.

oOo

A few hours later, I am awakened by someone opening my door. Momentary panic hits me, but I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that it's only Johanna. I sit up groggily and try to look attentive, because my mentor doesn't waste words. And, stupid as it may be, I want to ask Johanna about her family.

"So. You're alive," the young woman seats herself on the end of my bed. "Sounds like some pretty wild stuff happened during training today."

I nod. "Yeah, the girl from Two, Bridget, has a better aim with a knife then I thought." I nod toward my arm and see Johanna's eyes flick over to look at the stitches and bruising.

"Alright, well there are some things I need to tell you, so go ahead and get comfortable," she says. I settle back and look up at her.

"First, what she did is illegal, but we can't do anything about it now. They can't replace a tribute three days before the Games. But once you're in the arena, the rules change. Most of the Capitol citizens know what happened, so I think I can get you sponsors. Even if you can't find a weapon, we might be able to find you one.

Second, don't retaliate. She's obviously not afraid to pull a stunt like that right under the Gamemakers' noses, so I want no words or actions from you that would spur her on, got it?"

I nod. Makes sense.

"Third, be careful in the arena. I know it's early for a 'final speech,' but things can get crazy in the arena. You forget who you are, who other people are. Everyone wants to get out alive. Sometimes...," Johanna's eyes stare into the distance, obviously in another world, "people do things that they regret later."

I think Johanna's done with her speech, and it sounds like this would be a good lead in to my question.

"Johanna, what really happened to your family? I know a lot of people say the Capitol took them out, but other people think other things happened and I just want to know. Carver said...it was someone else. That the Capitol didn't do anything. And if you don't want to tell me, it's okay, but I really just want to know. Carver also overheard you and Finnick talking about you going too far."

I don't know if I should regret these words, because Johanna's expression suddenly changes. Anger flashes in her eyes, and I wonder if I made a mistake in talking to her. She opens her mouth as if to yell at me, but seems to think better of it and change her mind. A new look appears, this time sadness. I don't know what happened, but it's obviously very emotional for Johanna.

"The Capitol didn't kill them," she whispers. I watch the young woman get up and walk away, out the door.

Which leaves me pondering, if the Capitol didn't take out her family after the Games, what did?

**Thanks so much for reading! I'm going to start trying to write more. And you should go read Strange Things by wintertrain, because it's an awesome story.**


	7. Chapter 7

One more night. Just one more seemingly endless expanse of time in which I toss and turn, unable to focus on anything but my imminent doom.

The interviews are tonight. I worked with Johanna and Nidea for the whole day, until they had picked an angle for me. I'm not looking forward to revealing my secrets in front of Panem, though. Why should I? I'm just going to die anyway. No big deal.

At least not to them.

I'm hoping my stylist will have picked something that doesn't make me stupid. Or reflect on what she looks like. She's just another freak, with pale, almost translucent skin and bright swirling tattoos. She scares me a little, to be honest.

A hot shower is waiting for me when I start my prep work. Although I'm preoccupied, I still enjoy the soothing massage of the water on my tense, knotted shoulders. Wrapped up in a robe, I am ordered to sit as the three bizarre figures around my start to work their magic.

I'm a little bit of a girly-girl, so I liked to see the palette they were using for my face. Pinks and reds, swirled in dozens of shades, are all I can see. I guess they're giving up on the whole District Seven thing.

My hair is straightened, then twisted again into soft curls. My hair is then pinned up in strands on the back of my head, with a few pieces left to frame my face. Nothing presents clues as to what I'll be wearing.

I am told to stand up, and material slips over my head. I can immediately feel the tightness in certain places. After some adjusting, I stare at myself in the mirror. A blazing red dress sheaths my body, encasing me in the soft fabric. I see spaghetti straps, and am not too worried, but then my gaze slips down farther. The dress is way more low cut then I am comfortable with, but no going back now. It hugs my form, accentuating curves that I didn't know I had, and, about mid-thigh, falls down into a cascade of rose-like embellishments.

I look like a frickin mermaid.

"Oh, you look gorgeous!" my stylist and prep team are beside themselves. From their chatter, I can tell they were hoping I could pull off sexy. I just think it looks stupid.

And when Carver sees me...

I stop that thought right there. I don't care what he thinks, even though I'm realizing that he's right about Johanna's situation. I picture Mahogany's face when she sees me on television. A girl like her would love this dress. Not me.

I'm led to the stage, where we get adjusted to the bright lights and sit in our places. I see other tributes that look wonderful. Some look like their stylist spent about ten minutes on their ensemble. Kohl looks beautiful in a flowy, bright yellow dress that reaches her knees. Her hair is straightened and pulled back in an elegant clip. I see that Brenton is dressed in a casual black suit with accents that match his partner's dress. They look fantastic.

Brody waves energetically until I catch his eye. I try not to grin-he looks like a clown, with his fuchsia pants and matching jacket. I'm not sure what his stylist was thinking, but it definitely-er-makes an impression.

I'm too preoccupied with greeting Carver, dressed in a dark suit with a red rose the exact shade of my dress pinned in his lapel, to notice the sudden deduction of noise. I glance about and see that all of the boys and several of the girls are staring at me-well, my dress. Ugh, such typical boys! Half of them are going to be dead tomorrow anyway!

I am saved from having to make a nasty comment to make them all look away by the arrival of Caesar Flickerman. He begins interviews and not much stands out in my mind. Bridget looks killer in a short, strapless dress, but her vicious personality kind of ruins the image. I can see the distance of the Capitol citizens, since most know about what happened in training. I subconsciously touch the scar on my upper arm, not fully healed.

My name is called, and I try to gracefully walk to the chair adjacent to Caesar's. It's so dang hard in this dress, but I can see quite a few of the crowd has their eyes turned toward the sheath of fabric. Caesar introduces me, asks me about my friends and family, and just chats for a while. And then the conversation switches to my dress.

What is wrong with these people?

"You pull off that look very well," Caesar tells me. I not and try to smile, while inwardly thinking that he was a total creeper.

"Quite an attractive look on you, wouldn't you agree?" he turns toward the crowd and lets them show their appreciation.

"Thank you," I say. "It's not really what I'm used, to, though, and I'm a little uncomfortable."

"Makes the boys at home jealous, though, huh?" Caesar refuses to take my hint that I'm done with the conversation. "You got anyone special back home?"

I think of Sawyer. What he said to me when we left. And how he's surely remembering it, too.

"One of my best friends," I begin. "When he came to visit me after the Reaping, he told me he loved me. And...I think I might feel the same way."

It's all true. Of course I love him-but only as a friend. Romance has never been part of our relationship. But, of course, the Capitol doesn't care. They just want a good show.

Before Caesar can respond, the buzzer goes off. I tune out the rest of the interviews, the laughs and gasps and cheers. I'm preoccupied with what's going to happen-which may very well be my last day.

oOo

Two hours later I'm showered and in pajamas, staring up at the ceiling while pointlessly trying to sleep. Thinking of Sawyer. Of Mahogany. Of Carver. Of Johanna. Of her family. How I'll never see their faces or find out what happened to them again.

And when dawn comes, my face is soaked with tears.

**So sorry for not writing in forever! I was on vacation for a week. So, I'm writing this while listening to the Hunger Games soundtrack. I've seen the movie twice already (yes, I'm a nerd) and it was fantastic, if you haven't watched it yet. Thanks for reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

I can't stop shaking. My breath comes in short gasps, and I feel like a leaf trembling in the wind. My overwhelming fear, all that I thought about last night-it all comes crashing down on my like a tidal wave. I start to panic. I'm literally hyperventilating by the time Nidea comes to collect me for the hovercraft ride.

She takes one look at my trembling figure, and orders me to sit while grabbing some kind of medicine. She holds it out for me, and, with just a whiff of the terrible fume, I lean forward and, without warning, throw up. I feel bad, since we're still on the hovercraft, but my stomach stops churning as much. The downside is that the bottom of my bathrobe and my slippers are now covered in vile smelling crap. I think pre-Games is worse than the real thing. Either way, I doubt I'm going to last long.

I am ordered into a shower and my nerves calm down a little as the warm water pours down my shoulders and back. I think back to my training session.

Unfortunately, District 7 has to go to private sessions in the middle, which means we're easily forgotten. I already had talked with Nidea, however, and our strategy was for me to cut down as many things with an axe as humanly possible in fifteen minutes.

Without, you know, totally wrecking the place.

So I had grabbed a new-looking silver axe that felt comfortable in my hand and looked around the training room. I was lucky enough to have learned a few gymnastics moves, so maybe I can use those, too. A little showing off never hurt anyone, right?

The rope holding the sand bag for boxing had caught my attention, as well as the rope holding up the net and a couple of tall, thin wooden posts that guarded a display of knives. I had calculated a few distances in my mind, looking around the gym. I had waited until the Head Gamemaker introduced me-as if they didn't know my name. Finally, I was ready to go.

_I started running toward the wooden posts at a good speed, and within a few feet, swung my axe into the outside of both posts. They fell almost simultaneously into each other, and I turned around and ran back toward the net. Balancing the axe handle in my teeth-a useful trick I learned a few years back- I begin to climb the net. It's a little bit slow, as we don't do a ton of climbing back in District Seven. But what I'm about to do will hopefully blow the Gamemakers' minds. At about ten feet off the ground, I position myself with the rope holding the net about a foot and a half over my head. Then, I do to things at once. I swing the axe blade-hard-against the rope, and push off the net. By the time the net falls into a heap, I'm doing a backflip in midair and-rather painfully-landing on my feet. Sort of. It was an expert trick, but I'm not done yet. I take off running one more time, a bit slower because of my sore feet-and throw the axe at the rope holding the sand bag at about twenty feet away. The rope slices neatly, and the sand bag hits the floor with a huge thud. Sand spills onto the floor. I turn around, expecting to see looks of admiration, but am met with something else._

Shock. Every face showed the same emotion. I was hoping it was because of my excellent axe skills, but, after a few seconds glance around the gym, realize dthat I ruined quite a bit of it. At least they don't look too mad...I had thought. Either way, I was proud and thought Nidea would be, too. I had waited until dismissal, then turned and walked out.

Later, when I told Nidea, she had some mixed emotions. She started off annoyed that the Gamemakers weren't specific about how I had done. That switched to anger about my destruction of the place where all of the tributes were supposed to show off their skills. Finally, she congratulated me, saying that I was sure to get a high score because of my gutsiness.

At dinner, before we received our scores, my mentor made me recount everything that I had done. Carver was especially impressed. He said he had just carved a couple weapons out of wood. I had thought that that was infinitely better than my show, but no one else agreed.

"You showed them that you're fast, and strong, and can do gymnastics, and can kill stuff," he had said brightly. The entire rest of the team was enthusiastic as well. I noticed very little was said about my partner's performance, but he seemed happy nonetheless. He sounded really nice, actually. He sounded like someone I could be friends with.

Too bad I still hate him.

Because I can't show that I want to be friends. I can't let the nice part of me show. Because this is a matter of life or death.

After rich chocolate cake, we settled down to watch the scores. The Careers all pulled good scores, the lowest being seven and the highest being ten. The other districts flashed by, ranging from threes to eights. Then the boy for district seven came up. And he received a nine.

I'm sure there was plenty of whooping, congratulations, and celebrations, but I was still tensed, waiting for my score. The number seven flashed up on the screen.

"Oh, excellent!" Nidea trilled annoyingly. The rest of the team was enthusiastic as well, but I was locked in my own little world. For the first time, I had felt like I had a chance.

Of course, now that I'm about actually about to enter the Games, that feeling dissipates entirely.

After my shower, I'm dressed in a light blue blouse with thin pants, soft leather shoes, and a sturdy belt. These clothes provide no explanation for what's to come, however, and I'm starting to panic again when Johanna comes into the room.

"Come. Now." she says. "I need to talk to you."


	9. Chapter 9

I follow Johanna out of the room as a mechanical voice informs us, "eighteen minutes until Launch." I try to read her expression, but she's as blank as a sheet of paper. I guess my mentor learned to control her emotions after enough Capitol visits.

Johanna leads me into a small room with a chair and couch that I didn't know was on the hovercraft. She motions me toward the couch and sits on the edge of the chair, looking serious. I sink into the plush fabric and look at her attentively. Something's coming, I'm sure of it.

"I've already told you that the arena changes you," she said. "You worry about things that weren't worries before, and get scared of what never sought to hurt you before the Games. Sometimes, it just gets to be too much."

Johanna draws in a sharp breath as if fighting for control, her eyes fixed on a memory from another time, another place.

"I was terrified. Part of it was paranoia from being in the Hunger Games, and constantly looking over my shoulder, as if someone was still going to try to come and kill me. Part of it was the new knowledge about how Haymitch Abernathy's family was killed after his act of rebellion in the Games. I thought that what I did, pretending to be weak and a fool, might be against the Gamemaker's wishes. So I did it."

I stay silent, absorbing every word, wondering where this is headed. Johanna begins to tell a story, every single particle of information sticking in my brain.

"It was about a week and a half after I had been crowned victor. I had found out by talking to other ex-tributes about Haymitch and his family. I was appalled by what I heard, but I never told anyone. Not my family, not even my closest friends.

"It got me thinking, that could be me. I wasn't sure what an act of rebellion really was at that time, but I was positive that what I had done, masquerading myself and playing the entire Panem population as fools wasn't acceptable. I had heard rumors about the Capitol citizens, that many weren't happy because of lost bets and the disappointment of me beating out the favorite tribute to win. I was obviously not sorry that I won, but I was scared-scared that what I did was unforgivable.

"I loved them all-my mother and father and two brothers. I know a lot of families fight, but my siblings and I got along very well. One was sixteen, one was ten. I was fourteen, the middle child."

Johanna seems to get teary eyed here, something I didn't know was possible.

"I thought that what the Capitol might do to them was so horrible that I would never allow it. I couldn't let my family go through torture or a painful death. So I took matters into my own hands.

"I had a friend whose parents owned the medicine shop. I pretended like I was merely interested in their work and business and questioned them until I found out which medicines were poisonous.

"When no one was looking, I found a substance that would do. It wouldn't hurt them, just ease their lives forever. I slipped it into my bag, and made up an excuse for why I had to leave her house. On the way home, I used my entire savings to buy a container of orange juice, a delicacy my family could never afford.

"That night, when they were all in bed, I mixed the sweet drink with the poison. I planned on telling them that I had found an orange tree, and handmade the juice. They wouldn't suspect a thing.

"The next morning, I carried out my plan, then placed the evidence so that it would seem like an accident, not sabotage. The Peacekeepers asked hundreds of questions, but I stayed innocent. And so nobody ever suspected a thing."

Nothing sinks in. It's like my mind completely blanked out. I am unable to form any thoughts, or do anything but stare at Johanna. She's crying now.

"I-I never wanted to hurt them," she sniffles. "I was just so scared for them. I couldn't even imagine what the Capitol might do to my family, so I protected them. But I miss them, like you wouldn't believe. They were my whole life, and now...there's no one left I love."

Johanna's looking at me, very determined now, even through her tears.

"You see what I mean?" she asks. "Nothing's the same. You have to fight it. Don't go down the same pathway that I did. Because once they're gone, they're never coming back. Look at me. I'm rich, I'm famous, and I have everything I could ever want. Except my family. The ones who loved me despite all I put them through." Her voice breaks. "They loved me unconditionally."

A sharp voice makes us both jump. Nidea's coming in the room, telling us that the Launch is in seven minutes. I move with robot motions, unable to think or process. Nidea is literally pulling me down the hall because I am so immobilized by the chilling story I was just told.

Johanna never seemed that insane. Sure, she had her weird moments, but doesn't everyone? But the fact that she would...

My thoughts stop abruptly. I must be in a dream. This absolutely cannot be real. Or can it? Because, as much as I hate to admit it, I can see where Johanna came from in her fear of the Capitol hurting her family. The Capitol does crazy things, or so I've been heard. But...to go that far? That seems a little bit too far. Or, you know, way too far.

The mechanical voice tells us it's time for me to enter the small glass tube that will lift me into the arena. But once I am in, I feel claustrophobic. I'm starting to regain my paranoia. I start to feel I will suffocate, and then Johanna comes back into the room. I can't hear anything through the soundproof barrier, but I can read her lips as she whispers, "don't let them change you."

Which is the last thing my brain recognizes before I am lifted into the arena.


End file.
